Beyond All Dreams
by blueseacowboy
Summary: Nelson is the victim of a sinister plot. Can Lee and the others at NIMR come to grips with what's happened while they search for the truth?


Beyond All Dreams

_I wrote this story about ten years ago and posted it on the now defunct Uncharted Waters site. I did a little editing on it and decided to post it in time for Halloween. Hope you enjoy it._

Lee Crane walked down the hallway of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, blissfully unaware of the events about to unfold; events that would cause him untold grief. No sooner had he reached the door to the outer office of Admiral Harriman Nelson, his boss and best friend, than an explosion knocked him off his feet. He covered his head with his hands as bits of debris rained down upon him.

A few seconds passed before he managed to regain his feet and stared in shock at what remained of the door he had been just about to open. Jagged pieces of wood were all that remained. Pushing his way inside, he was greeted by the sight of the outer office covered with bits of wood, plaster and office equipment. One pile at his feet began to move and a slight gasping was heard. He knelt beside it and began lifting pieces of debris from what turned out to be Nelson's secretary, Angie Wood.

"Angie! Are you all right?" he asked brushing bits of dirt from her face. He quickly scanned her face and, other than a bit of blood on her face from a small cut over one eye, she seemed dazed but unhurt.

"I…I think so. I was just heading down to check on whether the conference room was all set up for the morning meeting. What in the blazes happened?"

At almost the same moment, they turned to stare at what had once been the door to Admiral Nelson's office. Now all that remained was a jagged hole from which smoke and flames were visible on the other side.

"No!" Crane and Angie yelled almost in unison, both up and racing for the office.

"Admiral! Admiral! Where are you?" Crane yelled as he raced through what remained of the office door, looking frantically about the smoldering remains of what had once been an ornate, well-kept office. Small fires were still smoldering in parts of the office and most of the furniture had been destroyed. Shock and horror filled the two faces as both Crane and Angie stared at what had been Nelson's office.

"Was he in here, Angie?" Crane asked, hoping against hope that he had been late today or had stepped out for a moment.

When no answer came from Nelson's secretary, he turned to see tears streaming down her face. He went to her and grabbed her by the arms. "Angie! Snap out of it! Was he in here?"

Slowly, Angie nodded her head and then pointed a trembling hand to one corner of the office. There, a debris covered mound lay, unmoving.

Crane swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat. He forced himself to move towards the heap, hoping, praying it wasn't what-who-he thought it was. Kneeling beside the mound, he reached unsteady hands out to turn the pile over. Staring back at him was the face of his best friend, eyes closed, bright red blood covering his face and bits of plaster littering his normally neat auburn hair. Reaching out a hand, Crane placed two fingers on the neck of his friend and waited, praying hard.

"Lee? Is he alive?" a soft voice behind him whispered.

He dropped his hand from Nelson's neck and turned slowly. Angie could read the answer to her question in his face: Admiral Harriman Nelson, her boss and good friend, was dead.

"No! No! He can't be! Lee…?"

At her cries, he rose and grabbed her in a tight hug, holding her as she sobbed her heart out. He closed his eyes to the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes. He had to be strong. Someone needed to…

"Angie? Admiral? Where are you?" Crane heard the calls from the outer office, wanting to ignore them but knowing he couldn't.

"Chip! In here," he called to the man he knew was there.

Commander Chip Morton plunged through the opening in the wall that had once been a door, followed by Chief Francis Sharkey and two security people, and stared about him in horror. He took in Angie's sobbing form and the bleakness on his friend's face and knew something unspeakable had happened, something beyond a wrecked office.

"Lee?" he asked almost timidly.

Nodding to the place on the floor where Nelson's unmoving form lay, he whispered in a tightly controlled voice, "He's there, Chip". When Morton moved towards the body, he stopped him. "He's dead, Chip."

Morton stared at Crane in shock. "Dead? The Admiral is…dead?" He reeled back from the news as if punched. "No. It can't be. Not the Admiral. He…" Unable to finish, he turned away. Chief Sharkey stared at the still form partially covered with debris and, overcome with grief, stumbled from the room and leaned against one wall in the outer office that was still standing. He shook his head slowly back and forth, muttering "No….no…no…," under his breath. Admiral Nelson couldn't be dead. He was indestructible. Nothing could kill him. He had faced down ruthless enemies, saved the world countless times over, come back from the dead more times than he cared to recall and now he was truly dead? No hope? None?

"Chief?"

Sharkey straightened from his slouch against the wall and faced the two crewmen who stood uncertainly inside the door. Their gazes shifted quickly about the room and then lighted on Sharkey's face. Their shoulders drooped slightly when they recognized the desolation on Sharkey's face.

"We kept the rest of the Institute from coming down here, sir. We've set up a perimeter around the office…what's left of it." Kowalski and Patterson, two of Nelson's devoted crew members stared once more at the destruction, anger and sorrow beginning to infuse their faces. "The Admiral?" Kowalski asked quietly.

Sharkey closed his eyes against the sudden pain. "He…he's dead, Ski. His office is torn apart like…like some monster tore through it."

Patterson stepped outside the office for a moment and then returned. "I sent for Doc Jamieson, sir. He'll be here shortly. The guards weren't letting anyone through until we knew what was happening." Both men stepped further into the room and came to stand beside Sharkey. "What about the Skipper, sir? And Miss Wood? Are they all right?"

"Yeah, Ski. They're all right. They're inside with Mr. Morton. Angie's pretty upset. So's the Skipper and Mr. Morton." Sharkey gave a snort. "Hell, so am I," he said in a voice that shook.

Suddenly, a ruckus was heard outside the office door. "I need to get in there! I don't care what your orders are! I…"

"Let the good doctor through, will you?" Sharkey, Patterson and Kowalski all turned at the sound of the voice behind them and stared at the face of their captain in the doorway of the Admiral's office, flinching at the hopeless sorrow engraved on his face. "This way, Jamie."

Doctor William Jamieson, Chief Medical Officer of the Institute, shrugged off the hand of the well-meaning guard and strode through the office and disappeared into Nelson's office. All three men in the outer office followed the doctor into what remained of the Admiral's office. Angie, still overcome with sorrow, was held tightly in the arms of Chip Morton, while Crane and Jamieson knelt by the prone body on the floor.

After a few seconds, Jamieson lowered his head, removed the stethoscope from his neck and slumped to the ground, his hands covering his face. "He…he's gone," he whispered, grief stricken. "He's…he's really gone."

All the air seemed to leave the room at once, as if they had all been hoping that it was some kind of joke or a mistake. Now, they knew it was no mistake, just a cruel joke played on them by the powers that be. All of them knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that nothing would ever be the same again. Admiral Harriman Nelson-their friend, protector, boss- was dead.

~O~

Two weeks had passed since the explosion that had cost Admiral Harriman Nelson his life. Although the cause of the explosion had been determined to be a fairly large but rather unsophisticated bomb, the investigation continued as to who had been responsible with no clear cut answers. The police and Institute security were stymied in their quest for answers: answers they desperately wanted.

Admiral Harriman Nelson's funeral had brought dignitaries from all over the world and more grief than any of them had anticipated. The Institute had ground to a halt as lawyers carefully went over the Admiral's will. Crane, his grief under tight control, walked the halls of the Institute and tried to reassure all he saw while inside, he felt as if his heart had been ripped from him. His best friend was gone and in his place was a black, empty hole.

"Lee?' Crane stopped at the sound of the voice behind him and turned. Angie Wood stood before him, her eyes still reddened from the tears she shed daily for the man that was at once her boss and good friend. "Are you all right? You look as if you're sleepwalking."

Crane gave a brief, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine, Angie." He walked towards her, his arms coming up to caress her shoulders briefly. "How about you?"

The pretty brunette shrugged, looked away for a second as she felt the tears come once more, then looked back. "I'm doing the best I can, Lee. We all are. But you…"

"What about me, Angie? I just lost my best friend in a murder that I should have prevented. Don't you think I have the right to look as if I am sleepwalking?"

Angie reached up her hand and slapped him hard on the arm. "Stop that! You know as well as I do that no one could have prevented what happened! There was no warning, no time to do anything. What I'm talking about is you. You look tired, worn out."

Crane turned away from the probing eyes that saw too much. "I…I've had trouble sleeping. No," he said after a second's hesitation. "That's not quite true. I have trouble _staying_ asleep."

At Angie's puzzled look, Crane grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into his office and closed the door. "I haven't been able to tell anyone about this but… I keep seeing the Admiral. He's…beckoning to me. Waving to me like…I…I should go find him or…or…oh I don't know," he said in frustration as he ran his hands through his black curls

"Just dreams, Lee. Nothing more."

Crane brought his hands up and covered his face. "I know! I keep telling myself that. But…"

Angie gently reached up and took his hands in hers, drawing them away from his face. "But what, Lee?"

He stared into her concerned eyes for a moment, then looked away. "I see other things, too.

"What?"

Lee gave a short laugh and walked over to his desk and dropped heavily into the chair. "If I told you, you would have Jamie commit me."

Angie walked to Lee's desk and placed her hands on the polished surface and stared at him. "Lee, I have-had-worked for Admiral Nelson and the Institute for over seven years. I don't think there is anything you could say to me that would shock me."

Silence filled the room as Lee Crane debated what to do. Finally, he nodded briefly as if he had come to a decision. "All right, I'll tell you. I see the Admiral as I said, but I also see a house, dark and kind of spooky, sitting up on a cliff. There are signs nearby-road signs I think. And this feeling that I need to go find this place before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"I don't know!" Crane said as he threw his hands in the air. "I just have this feeling that I need to locate this house and go inside to find…something. At that point I usually wake up and can't go back to sleep."

Angie watched as Lee Crane got up from his desk and began to pace the confines of his office, twisting the ring on his finger constantly.

"Well, I think you need to talk to someone. Maybe Jamie? Or Chip?"

Snorting, Crane turned back to the Admiral's secretary. "You know Jamie. The first thing he will do is confine me to the Med Bay until I get a good night's sleep."

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea. Maybe you just need to talk it out to someone that would understand. Someone who can help."

Crane's eyes closed for a moment, considering. "All right. Why don't you call Jamie and get him up here. You might as well call Chip, too. No sense having to say this more than I have to."

Angie laid a comforting hand on his arm and picked up the phone.

~O~

"And that's all I can remember of the dream, Jamie. I just keep being…haunted… by it."

William Jamieson and Chip Morton had arrived at Crane's office within a few minutes of Angie's call. At her prodding, he related the dream and the feelings surrounding it. Jamie remained silent, processing what he had heard. After a moment though he rose from the chair he sat in and walked to Crane's side. "Look, the past few weeks have been hard on us all. You more so than the rest of us probably. I think what we are dealing with here is simply a matter of unfinished business. You never got the chance to say good-bye to the admiral, so you feel you need to find him and…"

"I don't think that's it, Doc."

Jamieson and Crane turned to stare at Chip Morton whose face had turned a pasty white. "Chip? What do you mean you don't think so?" asked Jamieson. "It's perfectly sound psychological…"

Morton held up a hand. "I know, Jamie. I wouldn't normally disagree except that…"

"Except what," the Institute's doctor asked, a bit chagrined.

Morton puffed out his cheeks and blew through his lips. "Except that I have had the same dream. At least it sounds like the same dream."

Jamieson and Crane looked at each other then at Morton with dumbfounded looks on their faces. "I would have said something earlier, except I was afraid I would be laughed at or told I just needed to relax or take a pill or something."

Jamieson laughed and rubbed a hand over his brow. "Well, I don't know what to think. The probability of you both having the same dream is highly unlikely. And a bit disconcerting."

Angie, who had remained silent throughout the confessions, rose from her chair near the window and stood before the three men. "Well, what do we do now?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

Chip and Lee looked at her and then at each other, puzzlement marking their faces.

Sighing dramatically, she said, "Well, how about looking for this house? You said there were signs you could see. Don't you think that might be a good place to start?"

"Why?" both Crane and Morton asked at the same time.

Angie threw her hands in the air. "I don't know! But anything is better than sitting here feeling sorry for yourselves. Don't you think? If you can find this house…I don't know…maybe you can find some…some peace. Or answers."

All three men looked at each other and shrugged. "Why not?"

~O~

The next day, Morton and Crane met at the parking lot of the Institute, determined to find the house that marked their dreams. They didn't have much to go on. Just a feeling that the house was near and there was a road sign that read "Barton's Fruit Stand 5 miles ahead".

"Well, Lee where do you think we should start?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought it through. I guess we…"

"How about starting at Barton's Fruit Stand?" a voice behind them said.

Angie Wood dressed for a day off in jeans and a white sweater stood before them. "What are you dressed for?" Crane asked.

"I'm going with you. You never know when you might need some help. Besides, I know where the fruit stand is."

"Look, Angie, this may just be a wild goose chase. I don't know what we will find, or if we will find anything."

"Well, we certainly won't find anything if we don't get going. Now, this fruit stand is about forty miles away down Route 101. Maybe from there you can find the house."

"How do you know that?" Crane asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm a secretary, Lee. I can find out anything. Now, are we going today or not?" With that she walked off to Lee Crane's car and stood waiting for them.

"I guess she's going along, Lee."

"I can see that, Chip. Well, let's not keep the lady waiting any longer."

~O~

The drive down scenic Route 101 took them past soaring bluffs and beautiful scenery. All that was lost on the three occupants of the red Firebird as it zipped down the highway.

"What are we looking for anyway, Lee?" asked Chip Morton as he gazed out at the scenery racing past.

Lee Crane pursed his lips and sighed. "I don't know, Chip. But we've both seen and done some strange things since coming to the Institute."

Morton turned to look at Crane. "You don't think…"

"What?"

"Well, you aren't thinking that the Admiral is somehow alive are you?"

Silence met Morton's question. Then a quiet, "That's…that's just not possible, Chip. You saw his…body. You saw the force of the explosion. How could he be? Maybe finding this house will put the dreams to rest…and him."

The rest of the drive was achieved in silence. A half hour later, they saw the sign from their dreams. "Barton's Fruit Stand 5 miles ahead". "Well, there it is," said Chip. "The same sign from my dream."

"Yeah, mine too. Let's start looking for this house."

The next thirty minutes were spent looking for a spooky looking old house that sat on a cliff. But it wasn't there.

Crane pulled off to the side of the road and rubbed his eyes. "I don't see anything that looks like the house in my dreams"

"No, me either. What do we do now?"

"Well, how about some cider from that fruit stand," Angie said from the back seat. "I could use something cold right now."

Her suggestion was met with nods and the three took off down the road for the fruit stand.

A few minutes later found them enjoying a cold cup of fresh apple cider. "You know, this was always my favorite time of the year," Angie said, smiling. "It's not as good as back home in New England, but it will do."

"I agree, Angie. I always enjoyed fall when I was at the Academy," Morton replied. "Lots of ghosties and spookies."

"All designed to make the lady of choice shiver in fear, right, Chip?" Lee asked smiling.

At Morton's wry smile the three broke into laughter. "You know," said Crane seriously. "This is the first time in two weeks I think I've really laughed."

"Yeah, I know. Seems like ages," agreed Angie, sobering when she thought of her boss, wondering if every autumn from now on would be colored by his death.

"Well," Morton said, throwing his cup away. "I say we head for home. We're obviously just fooling ourselves thinking this old, spooky house exists or that there are any answers there for us."

The three were just about to head for the car, when they heard a voice behind them ask, "Is it a spooky old house you're looking for?"

The three turned to find an old man in denim overalls standing behind them holding two bowls of what decidedly looked like eyeballs in one and brains in the other. He watched as their gazes went from the bowls to him and back again. "Would you care for some? My wife's own recipe."

"Uh, no thank you. I had eyeballs and brains for lunch," an amused Morton replied.

"Too bad. I can't seem to get rid of them," he said, putting the bowls on the table by the cider.

"Uh, you mentioned something about a spooky house? On a cliff?" Crane said, stepping closer.

"Oh, aye. The old Stapleton place. No one has lived there for over twenty years."

"We haven't seen any old house and we've cruised up and down this road," Morton said looking around him.

"Well, lad, you wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"It sits back from the road a ways. On the other side of a hill, too. It's quite well hidden. Just as well I say."

"Why's that?" asked Angie feeling a shiver creep up her spine.

"Nobody goes looking for that old house. Too many unexplained things happen there. They say a whole family was killed there over thirty…no forty years ago and their ghosts still roam the grounds. Everyone that's owned that place since the murders has left it, some in the middle of the night. It's best you go back to wherever you came from."

"Look, Mr.….."

"Barton. Barton's Fruit Stand? I'm Jim Barton," he said holding out his hand and shaking all three hands.

"Look, why do you think we should go on home?" ask Crane. "What exactly goes on at this place?"

A haunted look came on Barton's face and he turned away. "Strange things. Weird lights at night. Strange sounds. Disappearances."

"Disappearances? Who?"

"Doesn't matter. The police wouldn't listen. I don't expect you will either."

"Maybe we will. We're a bit more open-minded than the police," Morton said, smiling wryly.

Barton looked back at the three then glanced about him carefully. "Three weeks ago, a man I knew went up there. He'd been hired by some private investigation firm in Los Angeles. Stopped here while looking for this house, same as you. I told him how to get there and I never saw him again."

"Maybe he went back home."

"Nope. I called the office he worked at-Norton Investigations. Hasn't been seen anywhere since then."

"Who was he looking for?" Angie asked, coming up beside the man and laying a hand on his shaking arm.

Barton shrugged. "Some smart guy. A scientist I think he said. Name of…Jenks I think. Said he disappeared from his lab. No one could find him. I think he just went nuts and ran off. But who knows."

"Look, can you just tell us where this house is?" Crane asked. "I don't care about the disappearance. I just want to find this place and lay a few…ghosts to rest."

Barton shrugged and gave them the directions they wanted. The three got back in the car and raced off down the road to the turnoff they had missed before.

~O~

Within twenty minutes, the three found the turnoff, partially hidden by a thick stand of trees. Cautiously, Lee drove the sports car up the dirt track until he was within a few yards of the house but still screened by the thick copse of woods. He turned off the motor and sat staring at the house, pursing his lips.

"Well, it's the same house as in my dreams. How about you, Lee?" Morton asked.

Crane was silent for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, it is. I just don't understand how."

"Well, the only way to find out what's inside," Angie said, crawling from the back of the car, "is to go inside." She stood gazing up at the house and felt a cold chill shoot up her back.

"You're shivering," Crane said coming to stand beside her. "You shouldn't have come."

"Why, because I got a chill? Come one. Let's see what's up ahead."

Crane and Morton stared after the crouching secretary and turned to look at each other. "Who would have thought that Angie was the adventurous type?" Morton asked quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.

The two officers followed after the adventurous secretary and found her kneeling behind a hedge. "Do you two feel it?" she asked as they made their way beside her.

"Feel what?" Morton asked, staring at the house.

"That… that feeling. Like something is crawling over my skin."

Crane rubbed his arms involuntarily. "Yeah, I do. It's creepy."

"So what do we do now?" Morton asked, also rubbing his arms.

His question was met by silence for a moment as all three stared at the house.

"I guess we go inside. Barton said it isn't occupied so there doesn't seem to be much point in knocking. I say we go up and peek inside," Crane said.

The three looked at each other, nodded and took off, continuing to crouch behind the hedge that ran all the way along the perimeter of the house, the creepy feeling getting stronger the closer they got to the house. When the hedge made a jog right, away from the house, the three made a run for the window nearest them and crouched under it for a second before cautiously raising up to peer inside.

"I can't see anything. How about you," Morton asked, shading his eyes to look inside.

"Me either," Crane agreed, reaching out a hand to the window to clean it. "I can't make out…"

What he was about to say was interrupted by a loud, chilling voice telling them to leave at once and then a force grabbed them and threw them backwards towards the hedge.

It took a few seconds for the three to regain their senses and when they did they picked themselves up and ran for the cover of the hedge, scrambling over it hurriedly.

"What the hell was that?" gasped Morton, holding his side where he had landed hard.

"I have no idea," gasped Crane. "Angie, are you all right?" he asked, noticing her unmoving form. He turned her over and groaned when he saw the thin trickle of blood that ran down her head. "Damn! Chip, Angie is hurt. We have to get her out of here."

The two picked the unconscious secretary up and ran for the car parked down the road. They laid her on the back seat and Chip climbed in with her. "Let's go," he yelled as Lee clambered in and they began racing back to Santa Barbara.

"Lee, what just happened back there? That voice and that…that… I don't know what it was."

Crane continued driving then said in a low voice, "I don't know what that was, Chip. But one thing I do know is that I do not believe in ghosts or messages from beyond. Right now, we need to think about Angie and get her back to the Institute. Jamie can help her there."

~O~

The ride back was accomplished in much less time than the ride out had taken. Crane was careful to keep them all safe but he was extremely worried about Angie who had shown no signs of consciousness since their vault over the hedge.

"We're here," Crane called out. "You stay here with her and I'll get Jamie," Crane yelled, barely stopping the car before he vaulted from the car.

Chip Morton looked down at the woman lying unconscious in his arms. "Hang on, Angie. Jamie will be here in a minute. He'll fix you up. You'll see. He's taken care of Lee and the…the admiral more than once. Me too. Remember when…"

"Chip?" Angie's voice was soft and slurred but Morton smiled anyway.

"Yeah, what is it Angie? We're at the Institute. Jamie will…"

"Chip, shut up, ok? You're making my head hurt worse," she whispered, raising her hand to rub her forehead. "What happened anyway?"

"You told me to be quiet, remember?" he whispered, leaning close. "Besides, here come Jamie and Lee," he said, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Lie still."

William Jamieson and Lee Crane raced up to the car and peered inside at the smiling face of Chip Morton and the pain-filled face of Angie Wood.

"Well, Lee had me believing you were almost dead," Jamieson said, smiling at Angie.

"I think that he was exaggerating. At least, I hope he was," Angie said rising unsteadily from Chip's arms. "Oh, that hurts," she said holding her head in both of her hands. "How ever do you and Lee and the…the…" she stopped what she was about to say and grimaced. "How do you two deal with this all the time? My head really hurts."

The three officers looked at each other, knowing she had been about to add the admiral's name to the list. "We're used to it, Angie," Crane said helping her from the car.

"Besides," Jamieson said, "they have hard heads."

Jamieson, Crane and Morton helped Angie to the Med Bay where Jamieson insisted he be left alone with his patient. He left the two pacing in the corridor.

"This is so weird," Morton said.

"What?" Crane asked, pausing in his pacing.

"This. We're here, outside the Med Bay but for once it isn't you or me or…or the admiral inside."

"Yeah, but this is just as hard. She should have never come along with us."

"I don't think you will get her to agree."

Crane snorted. "Probably not. She's stubborn. Just like…."

When Crane didn't finish, Morton looked away for a moment and then said, "Like the admiral?"

Silence met the question. They both had so much healing to do before they could even begin to accept the admiral's death.

Further musing was averted when Jamieson stepped from the Med Bay.  
>"Well, I don't know exactly what happened but she's going to be fine. Just as long as she doesn't go off jumping over hedges and landing on her head again."<p>

"She told you what happened?" Morton said.

"Yes. I don't know what to think but it sounds like a very interesting house."

"The question now is, what do we do? Go back or leave it alone?" Crane asked.

"My feeling is we leave it alone. There's something weird about that house."

"That's obvious, Chip. A lot of houses have protection but most houses don't have force fields or whatever that creepy-crawly feeling was."

Jamieson clapped both men on the shoulder and said, "Well, I suggest you let it go for the night and get some rest. I can arrange beds here for you two if you…"

"No, no no, Jamie that's all right. I think I'm just going to check on Angie, see if there is anything she needs and head up to my office," Crane said sidling away.

The CMO turned to Morton who looked startled for a moment and then began to edge towards the door. "I… I'm just going to…to do what Lee said. I'll see you in the morning, Doc."

Jamieson laughed quietly to himself and went inside the room where the admiral's secretary lay. He walked over to her and listened as the two men offered their assurances of help and anything else she needed as well as apologizing profusely.

"Look, Lee, Chip, it isn't your fault. The question is, what are you going to do now?"

Lee and Chip looked at each other and then back to her. "Go to our offices and do some work?" they both said in unison.

Sighing, Angie lay back on her pillow and looked disgusted. "Don't you think going back to the house…?"

"Go back to the house!" Morton fairly shouted. "Are you nuts? That place is…is… creepy!" he stammered. "No way. Huh uh."

"I thought you wanted the dreams to stop, Chip," she said.

"Well, all I said was maybe going to the house would make them stop. I went, now I'll just see if it helped."

"The admiral is dead, Angie. What good is it going to do to go back?" Crane asked softly, his voice tight with emotion. "We can't…we can't bring him back."

Angie turned her face to the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. "I know he's gone," she whispered. "I…I just have a feeling about that house," she said turning back, tears making tracks down her face. "I can't explain it. I felt something there."

"What?" asked Crane.

Angie shook her head. "I don't know, Lee. I don't know."

Jamie stepped up beside the bed and put his hand on Crane's arm. "I think that's enough for now gentlemen. She needs rest. I'll stay here with her and keep an eye on her. You can both come back in the morning _after_ you have both had a good night's sleep yourselves."

Both men nodded, leaned down to give the plucky secretary a friendly kiss and left the room.

"I think I'm going to go up to my office Chip and do some work. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right. In the morning.

~O~

Both men attempted to work but both found the events at the house distracting. Why had they both felt the need to find the house? Why did they both have the same dream? And what was up with that voice and that force field or whatever it was?

The questions rolled around and around in their minds until both fell into an exhausted sleep. And both, once again, dreamed.

"NO! Admiral! Come back! Where are you going?" Lee Crane's frantic voice could be heard in the hallway outside the office. Morton threw open the door and rushed inside. "Lee! Lee wake up! It's a dream! Wake up!"

At Morton's anxious tone, Crane awoke. "What? What's going on? Where? Oh, the dream," he said groggily. "Damn! I had hoped…"

"Yeah, me too," Chip said sitting on the corner of the desk. "I just had my own visitation."

"Visitation? What are you talking about?"

Morton snorted then rubbed his hands over his eyes. "What would you call it?"

"A dream! Nothing more!"

"Well, then I guess you and I have a psychic connection. How else do you explain it?"

Lee was interrupted by a call from Jamie in the Med Bay. "Skipper? You're still here? I thought I told you to get some rest. No wonder I couldn't raise you at your apartment."

"What is it Jamie? Is something wrong," Crane asked, not liking the tone of Jamie's voice.

"No. Yes. Oh, I don't know. Just come down to the Med Bay. Oh, and do you know where Morton is?"

"He's right here. I'll bring him along."

"I might have known. Hurry."

The men sprinted down the hall and down the stairs to the Med Bay, screeching to a halt outside the door where they were met by Jamieson.

"Jamie! What is it? You said she was all right," both men said at the same time.

"Calm down. She is. It's just…well."

"What is it?" Crane put a comforting hand on Jamieson's shoulders. "You're pale as a ghost!"

"A ghost. Yes, you're right," he said pacing back and forth in front of the door and rubbing his hands. "I saw a ghost. That's all it…wait a minute! I do not believe in ghosts!"

"Jamie why don't you calm down and tell us what happened," Crane said.

Jamieson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I…I had a dream. THE dream. Same as you both. Just now."

Morton whistled softly. "That's…that's just…weird. We both just had the dream again. We had just awakened when you called us."

"I…I don't know what to…"

"No! Admiral! Don't go! Come back!" Angie's terror-filled voice came to them through the Med Bay door.

Jamieson, Morton and Crane raced inside to find Angie sitting up and weeping uncontrollably. "Please! What is it? Come back! Tell me what to do!"

"Angie! Wake up! It's Doc! It's over now! Wake up!"

A few seconds passed before Angie opened her eyes and stared at the three faces before her. "What…what happened?"

"You tell us," Jamieson said sitting by her bed.

Angie leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes. "Oh…the dream. I had the dream." Sitting up suddenly as realization hit her, she yelled, "I had the dream!"

Her pronouncement was met with silence from the three and they stared at her and then each other.

"This makes no sense!" Crane said stepping away from the others. "How can all four of us have the same dream at almost the same time?"

"All of us?" Angie asked.

"Yeah," Morton said sitting on her bed and brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. "Jamie called us a few minutes ago because he had just had the dream and we had both just awakened."

"This is just too weird to be…well… believed," Crane said from the window. A few seconds of silence passed before Crane turned around, resolution marking his face. "I'm going back."

"B...Back?" Morton sputtered. "To the house?"

At Crane's nod, Morton sighed. "When?"

"Now. As soon as we round up a few volunteers," Crane said.

"Count me in," Angie said trying to get up.

"No way!" Jamieson said. "You'll stay here."

Crane and Morton both agreed with the doctor and gave them both their assurances they would be all right. Together, they made a few calls and within the hour had a small group of men standing before them, armed and ready to go.

"So, what's up, sirs?" asked Chief Francis Sharkey as he looked about him and recognizing, Patterson, Kowalski, Riley and a few others from the _Seaview_ standing before him. "Where are we going?"

Crane sighed deeply and looked over at Chip Morton. "Well Chief…uh…we're going to a…a…well for lack of a better word…a haunted house."

The assembled men looked around at each other and then laughed. "That's cool, sir! It is Halloween night you know! But why the firearms?" asked Riley. "Ghosts can't be killed you know. I think they're, like, already dead."

Crane closed his eyes and moaned. "I know, Riley. I know. Look, here's the deal." And for the next few minutes, the men were filled in as best as Crane and Morton could.

"So, this house has some kind of force field around it, sir?" asked Kowalski.

Crane looked at Kowalski and then over at Morton, then said, "Ski, don't you find what I just told you strange in any way?"

"Well, sure, sir but I've been on the _Seaview_ for a few years now. Nothing surprises me anymore," he finished with a smile.

The others in the room all laughed and nodded.

"All right. As soon as Tompkins gets here with that force field detector the admiral made before… well before he…he died, we'll get going.

No sooner had he spoken than Steve Tompkins came racing up with the device in his hands. "Here it is, Sir. All ready to go."

"All right. I don't know what we are walking into gentlemen, but something is not right with that house. I intend to find out what by the time this night is over."

~O~

When they were still a few minutes from the house, Kowalski sitting in the back seat of Crane's Firebird, leaned forward in his seat and stared out the window. "Skipper? How far are we from this house?"

"Just a few minutes Ski. Why?"

"Where is it exactly, sir?"

"Up ahead and on the right. Why?" he asked again.

"'Cause there is this creepy blue haze up ahead on the right."

Crane slowed the car and stopped, looking at the phenomenon. "What do you make of that, Lee?" asked Morton, who was sitting in the front seat.

Crane shook his head slowly. "I have no idea. But it's in about the same spot as the house. Let's go check it out." Sitting back, Crane gunned the motor and took off towards the house.

A few minutes later, Crane, Morton and the eight volunteers from the _Seaview's_ crew stopped at the end of the lane that led back to the house on the cliff.

Getting out of the cars, the men from the Institute stood by the captain. "All right, men," he said, checking his sidearm. "The house is about a mile down that lane. The plan is to sneak down the lane following the tree line as far as it goes and then trail along a hedge. From there it is a straight run to the house over open ground. Don't touch the house in any way until we find out if this is a force field we're dealing with."

At the men's nods, Crane continued, "Tompkins, you have the field detector. When we get close, check for any signs we're coming up on a force field. Any questions? All right, let's move out."

The ten men moved out, keeping low to the ground and following the captain's instructions. Twenty yards from the house and almost to the end of the hedge, Tompkins raised a hand and placed it on Crane's shoulder. Motioning, he showed the detector to Crane, who nodded grimly. Turning behind him, Crane whispered in Morton's ear. "The indicator gauge is off the scale here. There _is_ some kind of force field. Pass the information down the line."

Morton nodded and proceeded to whisper the information to the others.

"Can you get a fix on where the generator is Tompkins?" Crane asked.

A few moments of silence and then Tompkins grinned slightly. "Aye, sir," he whispered. "About 50 yards from here. Around to the back of the house. We should see it easily."

Crane nodded and gave instructions for four men, including Tompkins, to head to the generator and cut the power.

The selected men crouched down and began to sidle around the house keeping eyes peeled for any activity. Ten minutes later and the men were back giving the indication that the generator power had been cut.

"It was a simple design, Skipper. Definitely of this world though," Tompkins said with a slight grin.

Crane smirked and looked over at Morton who smiled. "Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make it look as though this place was haunted. Let's get inside and find out why."

The entourage crept carefully and silently to the porch. Crane peered into the windows and turned back to the others. Whispering, he said, "The windows are blacked out. I can't see anything.

"Skipper?" Kowalski said quietly from the edge of the porch. Waving him over, Crane crawled to where he was kneeling.

"What is it, Ski?"

Kowalski pointed to the rear of the house. "That blue glow, sir. It seems to be coming from the base of the cliff the house is built on. Out on the water or by it."

Glancing back, Crane saw what Kowalski meant. "We don't have time right now to find out the cause of that. Let's get inside first."

Crane crawled back to where Morton and the others waited. "The door's open, Lee," Morton said. "Sharkey used some of his "training" to open it."

Knowing the kind of training Morton referred to; Crane nodded, clapped Sharkey on the back and slowly eased the door open. He was relieved it swung open easily with no creaks or groans. Suddenly, a flock of what appeared to be bats flew out the open door, startling the men.

Grimacing, Crane glanced behind him at the men whose faces reflected their apprehension. He positioned his men on either side of the door, crawled inside and stopped. The room was pitch-black, but there was no movement and no sounds.

Leaning over to Morton who was beside him, Crane put a hand on his shoulder and flinched when Morton jumped. "Sorry, Lee. This place gives me the creeps."

"No problem, Chip," he said with a slight grin which, thankfully, Morton couldn't see. "I understand. Get the rest of the men together and let's try to find out what it is about this house. Tell them to make as little noise as possible."

Morton nodded and passed the word. Crane rose from his position on the floor and waited as the rest of the men stood. Gesturing to the men to spread out, he headed into what he figured must be the living room or parlor and came to a stop immediately. Cobwebs hung from the roof and the doorway. Morton gave a short laugh as Crane frantically tried to wipe the webs from his face. At Crane's silent glare, Morton wiped the smile from his face. "Sorry, Lee. I couldn't help it."

Turning back to the room, Crane continued inside, walking as silently as he could until Morton suddenly grabbed his arm and pointed to a corner where what appeared to be a pile of rags lay. "Sorry, I…it looked mummy-like," he whispered with a touch of embarrassment in his voice.

"Are you all right now?" Crane asked quietly. At his nod, the two officers took off across the room, stopping at the entry way to the kitchen area. A small bit of light came through the un-blacked out windows in the back of the house. Curious, Crane edged through the room sidestepping, sheet covered furniture until he came to the back door. Peering out, he glanced over at Morton who stood by him. "Do you see what I see?" he asked.

"Yeah, Kowalski's blue glow again. It seems to be coming from the cliff side somehow. I wonder what it could be."

Crane shook his head then turned at Sharkey's approach. "Sirs, we found something. This way," he said motioning them towards the other side of the living room.

The two followed him over to what appeared in the faint light to be coffins. "Is that what I think I they are, Chief?" Morton said, staring horrified at the boxes.

"Yes sir, if you think they're coffins. Do you think we should open one of them sir?"

"Why?" asked Morton aghast.

Sharkey and Crane turned to look at the officer and then back to each other. "We didn't come all this way to leave without finding out what's going on here, Chip. Open one of them up carefully, Chief."

At Crane's nod, Sharkey approached one of the boxes and pried it open carefully. Using a flashlight, he shone the light on the interior and gasped. A body lay inside, silent and unmoving.

Both men flinched and moved back slightly. Then Crane reached out a slightly trembling hand and put it on the neck of the body. Warmth and a pulse greeted his searching fingers. Confused, he leaned back and whispered, "He's alive, whoever he is."

Feeling brave, Morton leaned over the casket and stared at the face. "Lee? That's…that's Dr. Bob Jenks!"

"Who," Crane asked.

"You remember! The guy at the fruit stand-Barton- he told us about him. The guy that disappeared from his lab while he was working one night? When we got back to the Institute with Angie, I went up to my office and did some checking. This guy went to his lab one night and the next day no one could find any sign of him. Until about two weeks ago. They found his car at the bottom of a cliff about five miles from here. He was inside, dead."

Further talk was halted when they heard the distinct sound of heavy boots on stairs. Crane closed the lid to the coffin as the men scattered and hid behind the sheet covered furniture and watched as two men came into the room, glanced around and went to the coffin the men hadn't opened. Picking it up, they grunted and then headed to the stairs that seemed to lead to what must have been the basement.

When the men had gone, Crane and the others reappeared, standing by the casket. "Lee, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Morton asked.

"Yeah. If this guy is alive and he's suppose to be dead, then maybe the…no! That's crazy! He was dead! I saw him! Jamie checked him. I can't believe that. Still…. Help me get this guy out of the coffin."

"What are you going to do?"

"Remember the Trojan Horse? I'm going to climb inside and see where they take it. You guys follow along quietly."

The men proceeded to pick the "dead" body up and lay him carefully to one side. Crane crawled inside and lay down. "How do I look?" he asked with a smile.

"Creepy. Just like the rest of this place," Morton said with a grimace. Lowering the lid, he stepped back and positioned the men around the room.

It didn't take long for the two men to return and pick up the coffin, carrying it to the basement.

Morton and the others followed the entourage quietly, making sure they made no noise on the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, they turned and saw the men disappear down a narrow tunnel. Glancing at Sharkey and Kowalski, the men headed down the passageway that was lit with strange blue lights embedded in the walls.

"There's your blue lights, Ski," Sharkey whispered.

The men walked quietly on, keeping the coffin in sight as best they could, until they reached the end. Soft blue light lit the end of the tunnel and the men halted, unsure what to do. Edging to the end of the passageway, Morton peered out onto the beach, more blue lights illuminating the area in a soft azure haze, and was surprised to see them put the coffin down beside four identical ones on the beach. Four other men, dressed in dark clothes stood on the beach, carrying rifles.

Off in the distance, Morton could see the lights from a boat far offshore and what appeared to be a smaller boat heading for the coastline.

Morton gestured behind him and explained what was outside when the men had gathered. "Spread out on the beach but stay hidden. We don't have much time. If that boat gets to the shore before we have a chance to take over, we may never find out what's inside the rest of those caskets."

Nodding, the men eased from the tunnel and spread out on either side. Picking up a rock nearby, Morton threw it towards one of the men, hitting him in the back. Turning, he aimed his gun at the tunnel entrance and slowly walked towards it. Morton eased back into the shadows and pressed himself back against the slimy walls. Once he entered, Morton threw a punch connecting with his jaw and dropping him quickly. "Glass jaw," he muttered, stepping back outside the entrance.

Glancing quickly at the coffin that held Crane, he gasped when he saw the lid open slightly. Unfortunately, the men on the beach saw it also and reacted quickly, surrounding the coffin and yelling for him to come out. Crane slowly opened the lid and climbed from the coffin which set off frenzied shouting from the men.

Knowing they had to move before they could notify the incoming boat, Morton motioned for the men to attack, jumping out of the shadows as he did. The fight was over shortly after it began, the well trained men of the _Seaview_ quickly overpowering the others.

"Tompkins!" yelled Crane. "Get up to the car and radio the Institute to notify the Coast Guard of our friends out there before they have a chance to escape. Give them the coordinates as best you can. And be careful! We don't know if there are any others around."

"Lee, we didn't have any casualties. Only one minor injury on the other side," said Morton staring about him at the men dressed in black clothes lying trussed up by the _Seaview's_ crew. "No one seems the least bit talkative."

"Well, let's see what we have here," Crane said rubbing a hand over his face and moving to the area where the coffins were lined up on the beach making a grim scene.

He could feel the tension in the men that stood by him, keeping watch on the prisoners and the caskets at the same time. Slowly he reached out a hand and pried open the lid to the casket nearest him and peered inside. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Never saw this guy before. But he's alive too," he said touching his fingers to the man's throat.

Moving on to the next coffin, he repeated the procedure and again found a live, but unknown person. Finally, he stood before the last box and stared at it for a moment. Why did he have this feeling of hope swell inside him? Nelson was dead. He had seen his body, felt his cold hands. Knew without a doubt he was dead. But something had drawn them to this place, these people. Four families now could stop their grieving, could he?

Closing his eyes, he reached out a trembling hand and gently grasped the lid, feeling the men around him push forward, all hoping beyond hope that they would find an end to their grief. The lid creaked open and someone shown a light on the reposed face lying within. Crane closed his eyes against the sudden welling of emotion that raced through him. A gasp was heard from the men and then Morton's voice, "He's…he's alive, Lee," in a whisper. "My God, the admiral's alive!" he said much louder.

A cheer was raised from the men that echoed off the cliff side and back down again. The tide coming in seemed to shout, "He's alive! He's alive."

~O~

"The last thing I remember is walking from the office to get in my car and feeling a sting. That's the last thing I can recall clearly until waking up here in the Med Bay. Everything else…I guess the past few weeks… are just blurry images…muffled voices." Two days had passed since the discovery of the admiral and the others in the coffins. The boat, registered to an obscure Pacific island nation, had been apprehended by the Coast Guard a short time after they had received the call.

"Well, I'm glad we got to you before you were put on that boat. We wouldn't have ever seen you again, that's for sure," said Crane sitting by the Admiral's bedside.

"Any idea who the poor unfortunate wretch was that was killed in my place?" Nelson asked drowsily, still feeling the effects of the drugs he and the others had been administered; drugs that had been intended to keep them unconscious for days.

"No. None. Exhumations were ordered yesterday and, although we don't have conclusive evidence, it seems logical to assume he had had some sort of plastic surgery to at least resemble you. Same goes for the others. They did find a fresh grave at the house, though. I expect they'll find that private investigator in it, sadly enough"

Meeting Crane's gaze, Nelson felt the anguish his friend had gone through and was profoundly sorry for it. "What have you found out so far about my captors?"

Crane stood and began pacing the small room. "Well, interrogations are still going on but the gist of what they've discovered is pretty much what you expected. The country of Sakau came up with a way to jump start its own lagging scientific programs, especially weapons research. Since no on in their country was able, or willing, to come up with the weapon designs the President, a guy named Josen Locsaun, wanted, he decided to kidnap some of the United State's best minds. The other prisoners were all working on various government weapons programs for the US. Then of course there are the various programs here at the Institute that you were working on. You were a likely candidate for abduction."

"And convenient too," added Chip Morton who had just entered the room along with Angie Wood, who walked over to the admiral, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, and seated herself on his bedside "The house was set up to resemble a haunted house," he continued. "It helped that there had been many legends about the house over the years as being haunted. A few strange lights, some scary voices, a few coffins and voila! A haunted house everyone wants to avoid."

"Except you three," said Nelson gazing at his officers and secretary with a slight smile. "Why is that? How did you know?"

Crane and Morton shifted uneasily and avoided looking at the Admiral who stared at them with a questioning look. "Uh, well…uh..." they stammered.

"Dreams, Admiral," Angie said softly as she grasped his hand tightly in hers. "They come in all sizes and subject matter. Sometimes, they might _be_ that double jalapeño pepper and pastrami sandwich you had before bed," she said smiling knowingly at her boss. "And sometimes they may just be messages from another world wrapped in packages that you shouldn't question," she said smiling down at the dumbfounded look on his face and laughing. "Just accept".

THE END


End file.
